Remix, Relapse
by Supreme Distraction
Summary: With a mind as strong as Olga's, it was difficult to prevent relapse. It would only be a matter of time before the headstrong blonde remembered who she really was—and, more importantly, the true nature of their relationship. NilinxOlga lemon.


Happy Valentine's Day, folks! I've got some other, longer pieces in the works, but for now here is something sexy and sweet.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own.

 **Remix, Relapse**

Every time their lips crashed together, Olga was struck by a distinct _lack_ of something she couldn't quite place. Something that tickled the nape of her neck, like ghostly fingers and pierced through the fog of pleasure that enveloped her mind.

But then strong slender fingers tangled in ash blonde locks, tugging slightly, and just like that the feeling was gone–buried beneath the haze of pleasure brought on by the press of a firm, muscled thigh against her sweetly throbbing sex.

Olga shifted sluggishly against her, body uncooperatively lax."Mm…"

The grip on her hair tightened and she whimpered, sitting up and meeting the gaze of the woman whose breasts she'd been using as a pillow. Her bottom lip protruded slightly, her gaze unfocused, "What?"

Her partner chuckled, the throaty sound making her shiver, "Are you worn out already?"

Physically, yes, Olga stalled, stroking her fingertips along the other woman's collar and down between the swells of pale, malleable flesh. The reddening welts there told tales of a satisfying, albeit rough, encounter. The gasp she received made her smirk as she gazed around the room at the utter chaos their lovemaking had resulted in.

The edges of her vision became oddly fuzzy and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear it, her ears ringing with the persistent buzz of static.

"Olga?"

Quiet. The blonde relaxed and sat up - when had she huddled against her partner like a wounded animal?

"Nilin…" It came out as a moan and the blonde kissed the brunette, her eyes welling up at the empty feeling beneath her breast.

They move together, an intimate dance that their bodies knew too well and by the end of the kiss, Nilin had been pinned on her back, her arms secured above her head at the wrist.

And for a split second, those dark bedroom eyes were wild with desire to escape, those lovely features smeared with dirt and blood.

"Olga."

Olga recoiled, releasing her too-tight grip. She frowned at the little crescent marks she had left behind, her mind a jumble. Where did her mind keep going? She didn't understand and the worried look she was receiving made it all the more frustrating.

Was she losing it?

"Olga..." That gentle tone wiped her fears away and strong arms encircled her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," the woman answered honestly. "I just… something feels wrong."

A shadow flickered across Nilin's face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Do you trust me?"

No, some part of her said. "Yes."

A whisper of thought. A memory just out of reach. Nilin nodded slowly, brushing her lips against the blonde's temple as her hand slipped lower, fingers stroking the drenched strip of curls between her trembling thighs.

"I'll take care of you."

Talented digits slipped into hot, wet heat, curving just so, and Olga went boneless for a moment, digging her nails into Nilin's shoulders for support. She spread her legs wider, straddling the brunette's lap and rocking her hips to meet each thrust.

It wasn't long before her eyes rolled back, her sex clenching around Nilin's fingers.

"N-Nilin..."

She was silence with a searing kiss, swallowing the ecstatic moans that left the blonde. When Nilin sped up her steady pace, Olga rewarded her with a muffled shriek, her eyes rolling back. Her sense were ablaze, the steadily tightening knot of pleasure in her loins, threatening to snap. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on pale skin as the woman rode for all she was worth, her tongue wrestling eagerly with her partner's.

Olga arched, the hand that cupped and squeezed her ass making her hotter still. She was close. So close…

A single finger, wet with saliva, brushed against her pucker and she flinched, crying out. It rubbed idly, daring to push slightly until just the tip popped inside and Olga came with a shout, her body trembling as her pussy clamped down around Nilin's fingers, attempting to wring out every last drop of pleasure.

After a small eternity, the blonde slumped, panting slightly. Her lover stroked her hair soothingly, her hand stopping at the base of Olga's skull.

"Nilin…?"

All at once she felt warm and sleepy, her mind clearer than it had been in days.

"Mm?" Something wet touched her shoulder. Was the brunette crying?

Olga struggled to sit up, but her limbs felt like lead and she could only lull her head to the side, the concerned question she had meant to utter leaving in a wishful sigh.

"I'll take care of you," Nilin repeated.

Reassured, Olga let her heavy eyelids flutter shut.

* * *

Nilin sighed and lowered Olga to the bed. She hated Remixing the woman's memories during such an intimate moment, but…

With a mind as strong as Olga's, it was difficult to prevent relapse. It would only be a matter of time before the headstrong blonde remembered who she really was - and, more importantly, the true nature of their relationship.

With that troubling thought firmly in mind, Nilin rose, crossing the room and letting herself out onto the balcony.

Until that moment came, it would be a cycle: remix and relapse.

 **Fin**


End file.
